


Blinding Surreal

by ChoklettHartz



Category: Bloodmad
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChoklettHartz/pseuds/ChoklettHartz
Summary: Normally William would fire a bolt without hesitation. Witches, demons, monsters, they were all evil things to be stamped out. But Asher was…strange.A witch hunting down another witch, killing other sinful creatures, and leaving innocents untouched. He could very well be plotting something. Yes, that was why William was tailing him. No other reason.
Relationships: William/Asher (Bloodmad)
Kudos: 1





	Blinding Surreal

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot for the board game Bloodmad! Asher is angy mage and William is stoic vagabond priest. They're cute XD 
> 
> The twitter for [Bloodmad](https://twitter.com/BloodmadGame)

The stench of blood and rot emanated from the pores of the forest, heavy enough to form a mist. There was no sound of life. The absence of the usual noises one would expect from an ordinary forest — birds, critters, wind — gave way to the eerie prominence of death. William treaded carefully over the tangled forest ground, following the trail of putrid monster blood, dark splotches under foggy moonlight. It had been injured, but not by his hand. That meant there could be others nearby hunting the same game, friend or foe. The priest knew better than to be hopeful in this cursed land. His eyes constantly scanned the woods around him while he listened for any hint of movement.

One step after another the stench grew stronger, the bloodmadness a haze pressing in around him. With razor focus, he tracked down the beast. He held his crossbow at the ready, walking by twisted branches and sprawling roots. Suddenly, a light flashed through the woods, blinding white. William shielded his eyes and quickly ducked around a tree. The flash was followed by a clap of thunder and a blood curdling shriek. 

As the darkness enveloped him again, William peered into the distance and could see dimmer flashes of light from deeper in the forest. He followed it, picking up his pace. The smell of charred flesh rose through the forest stench. Before long, he was crouched behind a dense thicket of overgrown tree roots and thorny brambles. The sound of thunder clashed with the howls of a wounded beast, the lycan William had been hunting. He leaned around his cover and saw a familiar figure. An even more familiar voice chanted incantations. _Asher._

He turned away again as another flash of lightning flared from the witch’s staff. William ignored the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach and steadied his nerves. If he had run into anyone else, his course of action would have been quite simple: assist and take out the monsters. This particular witch, on the other hand... From the sounds of the lycan’s shrieks and magic shredding its flesh, Asher had the situation under control.

But then a vision flashed before his eyes: the witch with wide eyes, blood spilling from a gash through the torso. Heart pounding, breath coming short, William quickly stepped out from the cover of the tree just as another beast leapt from the brush and lunged at Asher’s back. He raised his crossbow and fired. The bolt struck the beast straight in the heart and was thrown back by the force of the impact.

Asher whirled around, eyes wide as he glanced between the slain beast and William, an indignant anger flashing across his eyes. Though William expected as much, he was still relieved. The beast Asher had been fighting gave one last dying cry, and the witch scowled as he gave it one last zap of lightning, entirely unnecessary. Then he rounded on William, stormy eyes aglow. There it was.

“I had that,” Asher said in a harsh tone.

William only shrugged and adjusted the string of his crossbow. “I happened to be in the area.” He met Asher’s glare with a steady gaze. Though he was quite sure the vision he saw had passed, he couldn’t be too careful.

Asher gave him a hard, cold look before speaking again. “Well, stick to _your_ area.” He turned away without waiting for a response and headed deeper into the woods.

William watched his retreating back for a moment, almost tempted to do exactly that. It’d be easier, or at least that’s what he kept telling himself. He glanced around the forest, didn’t sense any other nearby monsters, and sighed quietly before following the witch. They walked in silence for a while, William keeping a measured distance. He could see more than hear when Asher sighed.

“Why are you following me?” Asher asked in an accusatory tone over his shoulder.

“What are you doing in the forest?” William returned.

“None of your business!” 

Well, at least he didn’t cast lightning at him this time. 

William took that as permission to tag along. Though the beast he was tracking had been slain, there were likely more. Judging by the multitude of gouges in the trees and the descriptions from the townspeople, he expected to run into a whole den. And then, there was this witch walking ahead of him. Normally William would fire a bolt without hesitation. Witches, demons, monsters, they were all evil things to be stamped out. But Asher was… _strange._ A witch hunting down another witch, killing other sinful creatures, and leaving innocents untouched. He could very well be plotting something. Yes, that was why William was tailing him. No other reason.

It wasn’t long before they were hearing howls in the distance, a whole chorus growing louder and closer. The stagnant air stirred with foul winds, and twigs snapped eerily in the mist of the night as they reached the den of lycans. The hairs along the back of William’s neck pricked. He had felt this many times, the shot of adrenaline before confronting his foe, his senses on high alert.

“Asher—”

“I know!” Asher grumbled. 

Lighting sparked along his fingertips and his staff glowed with channeled magic. The thicket around them rustled, and suddenly burst with three snarling beasts lunging at them. William dodged a swipe and fired a bolt, nailing one of the creatures in its torso. Asher let loose a shock of lighting around him, fending off the attacks. The monsters had long snouts, beady eyes, rotting flesh, and were twice William’s height.

They were particularly vicious, fighting in their own territory. William put one down, but was caught off guard by an explosion of vines from the earth near his feet, black thorns lashing and curling around him. With a cry of pain, William dropped his crossbow. He brought an arm up to deter the vines’ attempts to strangle him. A grating cackle reached his ears, and he saw the dark plants were summoned by a haggard witch who was standing at a distance, dressed in moth-eaten robes, a face disfigured by bloodmadness. William grit his teeth and grabbed a crossbow bolt with his free hand, hoping to weaken the vines. But the thorns cut into his skin, winding tighter, and a lycan bounded towards him with razor sharp claws. He grit his teeth, struggling to duck out of the way.

Then, a flash of light blinded William once more. Searing heat nearly burned him, and he heard the telling clap of thunder. The vines around him grew hot for a moment before recoiling completely, and the hag witch let out a shriek of agony and rage. William dropped to the ground. He quickly grabbed his crossbow and stood upright, ready to shoot down the monsters. But as he held his weapon ready, there were only smoldering, charred corpses around him illuminated by the surrounding brush that had been set aflame. 

He glanced at the only possible source and saw Asher leaning on his staff, panting heavily. William blinked for a moment, processing what had just happened. The air was thick with the after effects of Asher’s spells, static and magic enough for William to feel it.

“You saved me— You’re hurt,” William said as he saw the burn marks scoring Asher’s hands and up his arms under his sleeves. Though it wasn’t a common sight, the priest recognized the signs of when a magic user expended too much power at once. He took a step forward, but stopped short at Asher’s scowl.

“I’m fine,” he said between gritted teeth. He glanced over at William and huffed. “You’re the one that’s all bloody.”

William caught himself and adjusted his collar, clearing his throat. “Only some scratches, thanks to you.”

“Whatever. Didn’t ask,” Asher muttered as he walked over to the corpse of the hag witch, still leaning on his staff. 

William made sure his crossbow was undamaged and tentatively looked over himself. He didn’t feel much other than a bit of mild pain, an indication that he didn’t get poison or anything in his wounds. Curiously, he watched Asher who was rummaging through the dead hag’s clothes.

“That what you were looking for?” William asked.

“Sort of,” Asher said flatly. He dropped the burnt robe with a sigh and stood up. Though questions sprouted at the tip of William’s tongue, he kept them to himself. No point antagonizing the witch.

“Well. I’m done here,” William said, nodding at the corpses.

“Same.” Asher met William’s gaze. “What?”

“What?”

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” William said, shaking his head. Had he been staring?

He didn’t need to concern himself with the witch. Absurd. Making up his mind, William started back the way he had come, hopefully to a safe and quiet tavern in town. Before long, footsteps echoed his own and he glanced over his shoulder.

“I’m just going back to town,” Asher snapped before William could say anything. 

The priest raised an eyebrow, but simply turned away and kept walking. Not worth the trouble. Nope. Though he couldn’t deny that having a non-hostile company in the forest wasn’t so bad — as non-hostile as Asher could be.

After a while, he heard a gasp and a thud. Whipping around, he saw the witch had stumbled and was struggling to his feet.

“Do you—”

“I don’t need your help,” Asher growled out as he regained his balance. William frowned and crossed his arms.

“You saved me, and I owe you, so let me help.”

Asher scoffed. “Don’t mention it,” he said, and stubbornly kept walking despite his weakened state. William resisted the urge to roll his eyes, crossed the short distance to Asher, and offered his hand. Asher glared at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be hunting me?”

“I hunt those that deserve it. You haven’t attacked me or any innocents that I know of— Damn it, Asher!” 

He had ignored him, tried to keep going on his own, and stumbled again. William caught him, suppressing the urge to wince at his own injuries. Finally Asher sighed and seemed to relent. He clutched William’s arm with one hand and his staff with the other, breathing steadily through clenched teeth. William wouldn’t have minded supporting him more, but he supposed this would have to do.

“Well? Are we going?” Asher mumbled without looking at him. 

“Right.”

They walked slowly, William supporting Asher over the uneven earth. As they reached the edge of the forest and the trees were less twisted, rain drops began falling.

“That’s not you, is it?” William asked.

Asher had grown pale with the effort to keep walking and only fumed silently.

It was pouring by the time they reached the village, their clothes effectively soaked and thoroughly unpleasant. They hobbled into the nearest tavern which was a small but sturdy building that doubled as an inn. Inside were a couple of empty tables and chairs, a partially wiped-down bar, and a desk at which a clerk sat, nodding off.

“Any rooms open?” William asked after helping Asher sit in a nearby chair.

“Just one left,” the clerk said with a yawn.

Asher whipped his head up. “What?”

William blanched and gave the man a stern look. “Just one? Can you check to be sure?”

The clerk squinted one eye at him, mouth twisted in a frown. He seemed like he would have declined the request, but after glancing over the two and assessing their weapons, got up with a grunt and headed down the hall that led to the rooms.

William waited at the desk, trying to refrain from drumming his fingers impatiently on the worn wood or looking anywhere in Asher’s direction. He didn’t mind helping out the witch here and there, but he wasn’t exactly trying to spend quality time with him. It was quiet except for the torrent of rain outside and the footsteps of the clerk checking the rooms. The only light in the spacious room was a single oil lamp. Finally the clerk came back with the same bored and mildly annoyed expression. 

“One room,” he said flatly.

William almost had a mind to check the rooms himself, but he only took a deep breath and glanced as Asher. The witch met his gaze, both of them thinking for a moment.

“I’ll find somewhere else,” Asher finally said and picked up his staff, though it was obvious he was in no state to be traveling any further.

William pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Where are you going to go in this storm? This is the only inn.”

“Why are you so concerned with where I am or what I’m doing?” Asher bit out as he leaned heavily on his staff.

A good question. William thought he had that figured out. But here was this witch in a state of recovery, clearly unlikely to be a threat to any townspeople at the moment. There was no need for the priest to be keeping an eye on him. And yet William couldn’t stop himself as he asked the clerk how much the room would cost.

“If anything I should be the one leaving,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m short on money.”

Asher gave him a suspicious look, like he didn’t quite believe him. Without a word, he fished out his money pouch and laid out half the pay for the room. William added the other half, and the clerk swept it into a box before jerking his thumb at the hallway.

They walked the short distance to the room, the very last one practically wedged at the end of the hall, and pushed open the door. William lit one of the lamps as Asher entered the room.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Asher muttered.

Turning around, William took a moment to ask God what exactly he had done wrong. There was only one bed. A small bed crammed in a corner fitted with what looked like scratchy, uncomfortable sheets. There was a table and a chair in another corner, and it was enough to fill up most of the space in the tiny room.

Cursing under his breath, Asher nudged past William and sat down in the chair. With a small sigh, William closed the door behind him — tried to, it stayed slightly ajar — and peered out the small dirty window. Rivulets of water streamed down the glass panes, and what little light there was in the rest of the village was stifled by the rainy haze. He hoped it wouldn’t last too long, or worse flood over the riverbanks nearby.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Asher wrapping bandages around his burned hands. He kept fumbling with them, unable to warp them efficiently. William took a few steps over to help, but Asher flinched back and shot him a glare. This was getting annoying. William considered just grabbing his hands and tying the bandages for him. Instead he held out a hand, waiting patiently. Either Asher was beginning to trust him or just fed up. After a few seconds of giving him a suspicious look, his shoulders slumped. He held his hands out and looked away as William carefully treated his wounds. 

“You can take the bed,” William said.

“Don’t need it.”

The priest shook his head. He was tired. Not bothering to argue anymore, William lied down on the bed and shuffled right up against the wall, leaving as much space as he could. He didn’t care much what the witch did at this point and closed his eyes to try to sleep. Just as he was about to doze off, the silence in the room was broken by a sneeze. William glanced over his shoulder at Asher who was slouched in the chair, hugging his arms. 

Again, he tried to sleep, but couldn’t help saying out loud, “Think of it in a practical sense. It’s cold and it’s going to get colder. If you get sick, it’ll hamper your goals, right?”

William didn’t get a response and decided he had done enough. Whether the stubborn witch wanted to share the bed or not, he no longer cared. He dozed off into a fitful sleep, just barely soothed by the constant rhythm of rain.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed, but once more he stirred in the middle of the night, half in a dreamlike state. William felt the familiar sensation of a vision latching onto him suddenly. He saw… Asher, turning to look at him, eyes devoid of the usual anger, a smile breaking across his face. William jolted into the present and felt an elbow jab him in the back.

“Stop moving around.”

William flinched at the voice much too close to him as he tried to grasp his surroundings.

“God damn it! Cut it out! I should just sleep on the floor,” Asher grumbled.

“S-Sorry,” William mumbled as he blinked at the wall before him, mind jumbled by the vision and surprised Asher had actually taken up the offer to share the bed. 

He shifted carefully, slowly, just enough to look behind and see Asher was lying beside him, facing away. Their backs were a hair’s width away, warmth emanating between them. William tried to recall the vision or dream or whatever it was. Rarely did he ever get visions that were peaceful like that. As far as he could remember, his visions were always that of tragedy and violence.

The rain storm outside had softened to a gentle patter. Gingerly, William turned onto his back, careful not to disturb him. He couldn’t help watching Asher’s shoulders move slightly with each breath, a steady rise and fall. In that moment, the young man beside him didn’t really seem like a witch, at least nothing like the monsters William hunted. The image he had seen, for once he wanted one of his visions to come true. He hoped Asher could smile like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
